Untitled
by peterpanda94
Summary: A new story which takes place right after the season 1 finale and the cliffhanger that the C/B fans endured.
1. The Black Box

Blair walked down the narrow streets of Paris, knowing just what she was looking for.

_Ah._

It was there in the window, there that she saw it. Blair quickly made her way into the shop and browsed before making a selection. She sat down at a table and silently bit into her butter croissant. She closed her eyes and inhaled the delicious waft of the pastry. It was pure bliss. It was what she had been looking for all morning.

Normally, Blair would chastise herself for this type of food behavior, but right now she couldn't have cared less. This was her last day in Paris before she returned to the more favorable, and possibly less depressing, Manhattan. However, Blair had plans to make her way out to the Hamptons. She needed to see Serena desperately, and all she could think of was getting out of the city that reminded her of that..._Chuck Basstard._ Of course, he had abandoned her at the helipad and she had flown to Tuscany alone. It was a beautiful city, of course, but she couldn't have stood one day longer there than she had to. Even the associate she had met on the plane ride over had fallen flat. They had gone out for drinks, but Blair had gotten extremely wasted and he had put her in a taxi back to a hotel. After a night in an expensive hotel, she had moved on to France to see her father and Roman. But Paris was the city of love and Blair felt sick every time she stepped out of her father's chateau and spotted a couple in love.

Blair snorted and looked around. At the table on her left was a couple that was leaning across the table and looking intensely at each other. The man was playing with the woman's dark, wavy hair and admiring her glowing skin as she caressed his hallow cheek and got lost in his deep brown eyes. Blair felt sick and turned away. Instead, she looked down at her pastry again. She shoved it away from herself before paying the bill and hoisting her leather bag onto her white shoulder. She hadn't spent much time outside, preferring her mourning to be done in the cover of her room with Cat and a bottle of scotch. She had never liked scotch, but it reminded her of _him_, and then she had needed to remember him, to know why she was mourning. As soon as those memories got too painful, she had switched to stronger, flavored vodka. Her father had been worried and invited her to golf and go shopping multiple times, but she just wasn't in the mood.

She sighed and opened her bag, searching around for her sunglasses and the directions to the small shop she had planned on visiting before she left. She pulled out the dark sunglasses and covered her face in them, then started walking down the narrow street and made a left, a right, and then three more lefts. Paris only looked large. To her, it appeared as the inside of her room, the bottom of a scotch bottle, a French café on the corner, and the video store close to her father's chateau where she rented her Audrey Hepburn movies. She would have brought them, except she hadn't thought she'd be watching movies on this trip. Blair shuddered and continued walking, seeking out the small shop she had never visited before.

Blair never would have entered this shop of her own free will before the summer. But Blair was a different person now that the summer had come. She was more open, more carefree, but she held a burden that followed her everywhere and which expressed itself of its own volition through sighs and the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights and too many bottles of vodka.

The bell that was attached to the door rang as she entered the shop and woke her out of her thoughts. She shuffled over to the counter, requesting what she had put on hold here two months before, but had never picked up. She stood stock still in the center of the shop, trying not to lean on anything so as not to get her white attire dirty. Finally, the owner came back and handed her the black box, she paid for it, smiled and waved goodbye.

_Merci. Au revoir._

She felt like she was saying it to the whole city.

_Thanks, but goodbye._

_

* * *

_

**Ok, well this is just a small teaser of a story I've been playing around with. Please, please, please tell me if you like it so far. I don't know if I want to continue it or not, but your comments are always helpful. Also, I'm making this story an open forum, so you can tell me something you'd like to happen or things you like and dislike and I'll put them into the story where I can. Thanks so much for reading. Please tell me what you think! Also, I need to come up with a story title, but I'm not sure what to call it yet. Please help!**

**xoxo**


	2. For Lack of a Better Motive

Chapter 2:

Chuck was tired. So tired it hurt. He slowly downed another swig of scotch from the bottle he was holding. It wasn't even worth it to pour it into a glass.

_Too much effort._

He hadn't slept in…he didn't even remember how long it had been since he'd fallen asleep. Honestly, he'd had very little sleep this entire summer. It wasn't because of his nighttime companions. They never stayed the night anyway. He found that he would use all his charm on them, get a girl to his house, then he wouldn't be able to perform. He felt like there was a drought. A drought of sex. Man, what he would do to be able to perform again. But he was just so _tired._ So, so tired. He used all his energy charming the girls and then he had no energy left, so he ended up half-heartedly sending them away, and then falling asleep in his clothes.

His lack of energy was just accentuated by the fact that he never _did_ anything. All day. He was pretty sure that he couldn't remember a single thing he had done this summer besides a couple of lame parties, drinking scotch in his room, and sleeping. But never enough sleeping. If Chuck was being honest with himself, he could attribute his lack of sleep to his constant thoughts of Blair. He felt so guilty for leaving her alone at the helipad. He knew he should have gone over there the next day, but he had gotten drunk off his guilt and after that he felt like it was too late. She would never give him another shot. Not now when he had screwed up so monumentally.

_Pretty ironic,_ Chuck thought. _Nate screws up thousands of times and she forgives him endlessly. I screw up once and she hates me._

Chuck desperately wanted to talk to her and apologize. Almost every day this summer he had thought about it. He had taken a drink to get himself prepared, then he would need another drink, and then another… By the time he was ready to call her, he was so plastered that he couldn't dial the number. One time, when he was sober, he had called and a man had picked up, speaking in an accent. If he had ascertained correctly, it was her father's boyfriend, Roman. He could have left a message. He could have waited for Roman to get Blair. He could have done a lot of things. But what he did was say 'Wrong number. Sorry' and hang up. Now he felt like an idiot. A complete idiot.

Chuck sat up on his bed and looked at the phone that had been in his hand for over three days. He hadn't _moved _at all in awhile, except to pee and get more bottles of scotch. He hadn't so much as showered or brushed his teeth. He was glad he had decided to stay in his father's house alone. Nate was with Serena, pretending to be the happy couple they weren't. Nate had offered to stay with Chuck, but Chuck had refused, saying he would have enough "company" to last the summer. In truth, Chuck hadn't had any company. All he wanted was to see Blair. And not just a picture of her, like there was on his phone. As well as 76 missed calls, 5 voicemails (2 from Nate, 2 from Serena, and one from Eric), and 6 texts, all from Nate.

**Spotted: B at the airport, homeward bound. A summer of golf and tanning it wasn't for our Queen B. What was it, B? Mourning, we suppose.**

**xoxo Gossip Girl**

The post from Gossip Girl showed Blair getting on the plane back to New York. She looked pale and tired and lost in a general sense. Chuck had been staring at this particular post for the last three days. He couldn't get the image of the bags under her eyes and her slumped figure out of his mind. She looked just as tired as her was. The guilt had overcome him and he wanted to see her now more than anything. But he didn't know what to say to her. He wanted to apologize and make it up to her. But what exactly would he say. He didn't really need to worry about it until they went back to school, but it was guaranteed she wouldn't want to talk to him then. He needed to get off his ass and see her before she hated him forever.

_Maybe just one more bottle though,_ he thought, as he took another swig. He fell asleep with the sun directly above him in the sky, but he couldn't see it with the dark curtains drawn like he was in mourning. The way they had been for the month he had been here in the Hamptons.

He showered the next morning for the first time in awhile.


	3. Fleeing the Confines of a Broken Heart

Chapter 3:

Blair was getting very irritated. She hated public transport. Why couldn't she have just taken a private jet?

_Oh. Right…_

Blair shook off that sad thought and turned her attention to the security manager. Normally, someone who annoyed her like this would get her full wrath. But lately, she just didn't have it in her to be cruel to people. She was emotionally and physically drained. And what was the point of making any else's life miserable? So Blair just stood there and took the security guard's crap while trying to figure out how she was ever going to make her flight with all this time that was being wasted at the security counter.

_5 minutes until flight 4573 departs from Paris to New York, LaGuardia Airport. All passengers please report to Gate 16 for departure,_ the loudspeaker announced, first in English, then again in French.

_Cinq minutes jusqu'à ce que le vol quatre mille cinq cent cinquante trois partent de Paris à New York, l'Aéroport de LaGuardia. Tous passagers sont sous l'autorité de s'il vous plaît le Portail seize pour le départ…_

"You can go now ma'am," said the stocky security woman in a southern accent that irritated Blair and which seemed so out of place in Europe. Blair grabbed her Burberry carry-on and her large white purse. There was no way in hell that she was going to make this flight without running, so she abandoned all of her humility and full-out ran toward Gate 16 with all the strength she had in her body.

Blair surprised herself by running faster than she thought she ever could with the added weights of her two bags. Her short legs pushed hard against the ugly red conventional carpet of the terminal as she tried to make her flight. Her brunette curls flew behind her and she felt the air against her face. She pushed herself even harder and found that she was racing past everyone with a speed she had never thought her small body could ever muster up, especially under the weak, tired, fragile state it had been over the last month. Blair closed her eyes and pushed harder against the speed of the wind rushing at her face. And suddenly she didn't feel so weak anymore. Her legs found a new strength and her heart pumped with the ferocity of a runner, a fighter. She had found her medium. This was serenity.

_Flight 4573 departing in one minute. All passengers please report to Gate 16 for departure…_

But Blair wasn't listening…

Suddenly she understood why he ran so much. It was an escape. She was doing something that was literally getting her somewhere. As Blair ran, she didn't even block her thoughts anymore. She was free. The weight of his hurt was falling very far behind her as she beat it in a race through time. It didn't hurt to think of him, didn't hurt to be with him in her mind. She was running and he couldn't catch her anymore.

_Flight 4573 will be departing now. Gate 16 is now closing. All final passengers please report to Gate 16 immediately to board the flight for departure…_

The words weren't registering…

As quick as he was, she was quicker. Maybe she could outrun him. Maybe she could beat him at something for once. Maybe she was better than him. Maybe she didn't need him. Somewhere, between her realization of her strength and running to catch the plane, Blair had run three gates farther than she had needed to.

_Flight 4573 is now departing. All passengers have boarded the flight, and Gate 16 is now closed. Thank you for flying Air France. We hope you have a wonderful day…_

But she didn't notice. For the first time in a month, she was happy.


	4. The Six Stages Of Hurt

Chapter 4:

Chuck wasn't sure if what he was doing was quite right.

On any other occasion, wearing a bright suit and a signature smirk would have felt like an involuntary reaction. But now, he felt out of place. The heat radiated off the sidewalk from the summer day. Children laughed and played near an old-fashioned ice cream parlor on the other side of the road.

But it was not only the setting that troubled his mind. It was the actions he was taking. He had stood Blair up for Tuscany and now he was just going to waltz up to her with flowers and his signature swagger and everything would be OK? Yeah right. Chuck rolled his eyes and he imagined the physical pain he was going to endure if he ever thought this would work.

_Hell,_ he thought bitterly. _It's worth a shot._

Still, Chuck couldn't bring himself to regret coming back for Blair. Even if it didn't work, it was still the first time he had gotten out of bed, shaved, and showered in the entire summer. Even if his 'suicide mission', as Serena had called it, failed, he would still be presentable to the world. But if he actually did fail…well then, how long exactly would he be presentable?

Chuck was waiting for the Hampton Jitney to arrive. This was so odd for him. He never waited for anything. He didn't know what he was even doing here. Chuck wasn't a romantic, as Blair had thought he was. Chuck was someone who got what he wanted, when he wanted, no questions asked. But now that he had gotten what he wanted, he had walked away from it. Chuck couldn't stop hitting himself in the head for that stunt. Chuck was acting completely out of character. He had watched so many Audrey Hepburn movies in the last week that his eyes hurt. Truthfully, he had been gathering tips on how to woo a woman. How to be just what she wanted. The roses in his hand were more of a peace offering than a romantic gesture. He was hoping Blair would see them before she saw him and not be too mad…

Who was he kidding? This was going to fail. This was Blair Waldorf he was talking about. She was the queen of reasons to be mad. If there was something wrong, it was Chuck's fault. If he hadn't done anything, it would still be his fault. Whatever they fought about, she always won. He sighed and looked around at the commoners on the sidewalk next to him. This was another thing he never did. Wait with the commoners. If Chuck ever had to wait, which wasn't often, he did it in style. For now, he leaned against the pole next to him and crossed his legs, pulling on a devilish smirk and checking his phone.

In doing so, he missed the arrival of the bus. He quickly stowed his phone away and looked up, only to see a magnificent Blair Waldorf striding off the bus in front of him, completely unaware that he was even there. Her eyes roved the street, looking for danger. Finally, they landed on him. It looked like she had found it. But, instead of hardening, her eyes softened. She smiled and strode towards him, throwing a hug around his broad shoulders. He stiffened with surprise then slowly wound his arms around her waist, hugging her back.

"Hey Chuck," she murmured softly in his ear without pulling away.

"Hey," he said back, surprise evident in his voice. He still didn't let go.

"Nice to see you," Blair whispered.

"Nice to see you, too," Chuck murmured softly as Blair breathed silently against him.

"Seeing me, seeing you," he continued. Awkwardly. Chuck never did awkward. Well, except for now.

He exhaled and held onto her, releasing his tension into the warm night air. He took a chance and leaned over, then kissed her on her shoulder. To his surprise, she didn't pull away. He felt her smile and her skin warmed.

"Do you want to get some ice cream?" Blair asked softly, still not letting go. "We can catch up…" Chuck knew what she meant by that. _We can fix things._ In true Blair Waldorf style, she would want to try to forget she had ever been hurt, forget that she had been vulnerable for any moment of time. _Or she could just want an opportunity to throw dairy products at me,_ Chuck thought with a smirk. _Yes, that's the more likely option._

"Yes," Chuck agreed, letting go and stepping away from her, then began to walk away from her towards the ice cream shop.

Blair stood there for a couple of seconds, then called out to him. "Chuck, wait."

_Here we go, _Chuck thought as he turned around. Blair trod over to him and wound her hand tightly in his leaning against him. She just kept surprising him. Chuck absorbed her weight and led them to the parlor. He knew what flavor she liked: cotton candy. She had liked it since she was a little kid.

Blair stopped him as he ordered. "One more moose tracks please," she said sweetly to the lady at the counter, who then disappeared and reappeared with their two matching cones. He paid and handed Blair the cone. She licked it then led him over to a seat on the edge of the patio, closest to the sidewalk. She sat, but he remained standing.

"Blair," he said softly.

"Hmm," she said, looking up with quizzical eyes as she licked her ice cream cone.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Acting like I didn't hurt you," Chuck whispered, self-loathing laced in his voice. "Because I know I did. But it's worse when you just pretend it didn't happen."

Blair's eyes darkened just a tad, but remained on the light side. She sighed. "About that," she said softly. "I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?" Chuck asked, confused. He was pretty certain that she was kidding. "Is this Blair Waldorf I'm talking to?"

"Yeah," Blair said. "I'm pretty sure it is."

Then she laughed. She laughed the most beautiful laugh and Chuck fell in love with her all over again. The light from the lampposts on the sidewalk made her hair shine and the summer breeze ruffled her hair, sending a smell of cherries and lavender his way. Her white teeth dazzles against the dark night and her face lit up, his own personal light in his world of darkness. Chuck suddenly understood the meaning of love at first sight. With Blair Waldorf, it had never seemed like an instantaneous thing. Someone proceeded with caution with someone like Blair. Jumping head first into anything with her was a death sentence. Blair didn't do danger. She needed comfort, security. Something that someone like Chuck could never give her. But in that one moment of gleaming happiness, he felt worthy, like a light had shined on him from the heavens themselves. Blair was basically his angel on earth.

She smiled at him, a true smile. Not a smirk, not a glare, not a sexy glance. It was a true smile, with light and life all mixed into one set of muscle movements that Blair had just made. He was stunned. He was speechless. Words failed him when this type of beauty presented itself. This was a level he had never known could exist in the mortal world.

"Chuck," she said, concern starting to etch itself into her beautiful features. "Are you okay?" She waved a hand in front of his face.

Chuck had been too preoccupied with Blair's beauty to realize his mouth had fallen open and he had dropped both his ice cream cone and the flowers.

"Yeah," he said as he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just—"

But Blair cut him off by covering her finger in ice cream and sticking it in her mouth. She then smeared some of the ice cream on Chuck's nose and laughed a sparkling laugh.

When Chuck failed to respond, her face fell. "Chuck, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes!" he said quite forcefully. "It's you that I think _isn't_ okay, Blair!"

"Me?" Blair said in surprise.

"Yes," Chuck said, trying to calm down. "You."

"You're acting like I have never hurt you in your life," Chuck said, mystified. "You're acting like nothing's wrong. In fact, you're acting like…"

"I'm acting like what," Blair said playfully, licking her ice cream cone.

"You're acting like…" But Chuck could still see the darkening of her eyes. The chocolate orbs were tantalizing, willing him to say it. Chuck stopped and practiced some self-preservation as he had been doing for most of his life. "Like you just want me to suffer for what I did. Corrode from the inside with the guilt by being nice to me," Chuck said in defeat. It wasn't what he had planned to say. _You're acting like you love me._ Chuck stood up for himself after his sad show of weakness, "But I'm telling you Blair. I'm not playing into your games anymore. I'm done with games."

"You're done," Blair said, taking this the wrong way. Her chocolate eyes had dimmed in defeat at his apparent lack of confidence in saying what he wanted to say. "Done…as in…done with me?" He heard the hurt in her voice.

Blair had loved and lost many a time. Chuck knew that although she presented herself as a frigid, cold girl who was perfect and in control, she was far from it. Starting at a young age, Blair had become acquainted with the worlds of loneliness and abandonment. First her father left her, then her mother became practically invisible to her. Then came Serena and finally Nate. And now Chuck. Chuck had never intended to leave Blair and if he had known in that second between looking at his phone and throwing the roses away that he would be leaving Blair, just like so many had already done, he would have stopped. He would have thought of the consequences to his actions. He would have met Blair at the airport. He would had texted her back. He would have stayed with her. But he hadn't, and now Chuck was on the list of people would had left the beautiful brunette girl in front of him. He had done it once, and he wasn't going to do it again. Chuck was going to stay with Blair, even if she begged him to leave. Because no one says 'leave' and means it. Blair said 'leave' and she meant 'stay with me for just a while longer'. Blair threw insults, but she meant them to be heartfelt cries. Blair wasn't sure how to tell people to stay because as soon as she committed herself, as soon as she felt safe, she was always abandoned, hurt, humiliated. Blair proceeded with caution. Especially in the realm of this Bass. Blair could never be quite sure when someone would leave. From experience, she knew that it was always erratic, unplanned. People would leave with a plane ticket and a fake smile; a promise to return that always went unacknowledged. People would leave without saying goodbye, without caring, without calling or texting. People would leave with a fight that was no more than a few harsh words spoken on a windy night in front of a limo. People would leave with an 'I don't want you anymore'. Because really, who wanted her? If she had just left for Paris that night, who would have stopped her? Serena, no doubt had tried to save her from becoming herself. But who would have saved her from leaving in the first place? Who really needed her? She had always thought she was everyone's stronghold, that she held everyone together. But it had turned out that she was no one's stronghold, not even herself.

"No Blair," Chuck whispered, leaning close to her. "I'm done with games. I could never be done with you. I just want to stop pretending like this is a competition. I want us to stop hurting each other back. I started this game and I'm finishing it."

"So what are you saying," Blair ventured, a smile creeping back onto her face.

"I'm saying that I want to make this real, Blair," Chuck said with emotion in his voice. "This summer I—"

"Don't," Blair warned as dark memories crowded her vision.

There had been six stages.

The first phase was her denial phase, as she refused to admit he had ever been involved in her life. Three postcards to Dorota. The first, detailing the immaturity of men and how she would never date again. The second, detailing the specific cleaning methods she needed to use in her room and items she needed to get rid of to purify the place of Chuck. Not three hours after she sent that postcard, she sent another one. This one was short but sweet, stating how she had been upset when she sent the previous card and to disregard it.

Next, was the phase of anger. She had thrown things all over her room, breaking glasses, throwing shoes. Blair wasn't exactly sure how much stuff she had thrown around the room, but the morning brought her answer as she stared at the wreck she had made the previous night. Two more nights followed of this destruction, as Blair wished she could get her hands on Chuck or his annoying scarf and tear them both to pieces. She thought of calling him to tell him how much she hated him for what he had done. But she couldn't. Her phone laid broken somewhere in the mess.

She tried to persuade her father into letting her fly back early, but he had refused to let her leave in the state she was in. Blair had pleaded with Roman, with her mom, with Dorota, but no one had been willing to let her leave Paris just yet. They all wanted her to get better and Paris seemed to be the only way that would happen. Her father had always been good at helping her, but now she didn't want his aid. She just wanted to fly back to Manhattan. In fact, she would do practically anything her father told her to do in order to get there. One time, she even told him it was inevitable that this would happen and she wasn't really that upset, since it had been coming for a long time. But a part of her truly blamed herself for not being worthy of Chuck's attention. This caused a downward spiral.

Blair had been through about four bottles of scotch in one night. This was the stage of depression. Three nights with scotch in her hotel room. She never knew how Chuck got that to go down so easily as she choked on the amber liquid. With a new phone, thirty-seven texts and seven voicemails later, it seemed as though Blair had gotten every thought she had wanted to convey to Chuck off of her drunken mind. He had never called back, but Cat had been there to hold and she had lived off of scotch and bread for the next week until her body stopped her from destructing herself.

Bulimia it wasn't, but he body was reacting to the horrendous intake of alcohol she had consumed in the last two weeks. She liked to think of this phase as the 'decontamination' phase. If she threw up enough of this scotch, maybe she could also get rid of the man who drank it. It hadn't proved successful, as Blair had thrown up multiple times but hadn't been able to erase Chuck from her mind.

Finally, came the stage of acceptance. It still hadn't come, but it had started to creep into her body as she had walked into the small shop in Paris to retrieve the small black box. Her acceptance and possible forgiveness was all going to be measured by how Chuck took this development. She wondered how far she could push him before he broke. Chuck and feelings didn't go very well, but Blair was hoping she could gain the key to his trust, and possibly the reasons in his mind for leaving her. And now, for coming back.

All these thoughts and more flashed through Blair's mind, one after the other in a slideshow of her summer. Her protests were weak and Chuck ignored her.

"This summer, I learned what it was like to lose something. Something that I needed more than the world. I've only ever lost something like this once before in my life and I barely remember it," Chuck whispered. "I don't want to lose you again, Blair."

Blair's eyes clouded over. Her lips trembled and the tears started to roll down her cheeks.

"You never lost _me_ before, Chuck," Blair whispered.

Chuck hadn't meant to say 'again'. Chuck felt the tug of his almost non-existent heartstrings as he thought of the only other woman he had ever lost. Evelyn.

"Blair?" Chuck whispered. She put her head in her hands and her back heaved with sobs. Chuck went to stand up, but before he could, she had bent down and picked up her bag. She rifled through it, looking for something. She kept it hidden in her bag, but looked up at Chuck with eyes filled with tears. She smiled and reached one hand out, covering his hand with her own. Chuck felt something drop into his hand. He closed his hand, then pulled it away and opened it. In his hand sat a small black box.


	5. The Soul of a Woman's Eyes

Chapter 5:

--

"_The road to hell is paved with good intentions."_

_-Proverb_

_--_

Blair had always had the best intentions.

Except for that time when she sabotaged a freshman for wearing the wrong shoes. Or the time when she 'mistakenly' led Jenny Humphrey to her birthday doom. Or even the time…well. Let's suffice it to say that Blair didn't always have the best intentions.

However, this time she had truly been trying to prevent harm. She wasn't into masochism; that was Chuck's vice. Blair was someone who got into someone's brain and found what made them tick, then found their greatest fear and exploited it. She would never have known that this was a fear so large and so powerful that it would drain the physical and psychological strength that Chuck had left. Blair would never have known this would do any damage. So, suffice it to say, Blair had never intended for this to happen.

She had never intended for Chuck to stare at her speechless.

She had never intended for him to throw his ice cream. Or for it to hit an old lady.

She had never intended for him to be thrown in jail, or to have to bail him out (with much pleading to the sheriff of his unfit psychological condition which did no good).

She had never intended to have him go on a bender and go missing for three hours. It wasn't a surprise to find him at a bar with three women.

She had never intended to have to drag him back to her summer house or to have to help him shower or throw up.

Blair wasn't someone who liked surprises. Blair found comfort in the known. She needed the security of a well thought out life. However, it didn't seem like she was going to be getting one anytime soon.

Despite all of the unplanned events of the evening, Blair couldn't find it in herself to regret giving Chuck the box. Although she didn't know the contents of the box, she knew it must have been something awfully important and upsetting to Chuck for him to freak out like that. Finding the box had been difficult, but not as hard as the information leading to the box. In one of Blair's many fits of sadness, rage, or disillusion with the world and the people in it, she had called Bart Bass. Why, she wasn't sure.

Blair had always looked up to the man with a body of steel, cold expressionless eyes, and an even harder, colder heart. She had admired his confidence, reliability, and self-assurance since she was about five years old. She had always wanted to be like him. _In control_. It was something Blair had always wanted, but had never accomplished. Hence, the bulimia. It gave her a grip on her life. It was the one thing she could control. Bart's quiet, business-like calm gave her comfort and security as a child, and, even in her teenage years, she found herself constantly admiring his drive.

Despite his cold heart, Blair had somehow found herself crying into the phone and telling him all about her problems. Including Chuck. Bart had been surprisingly comforting and had even said one thing that Blair would never in her life forget.

"_Mr. Bass, I just….I can't stop thinking of all the things I could have done wrong," Blair sobbed. "I mean, why else doesn't he want me? I need him…"_

_Bart Bass smiled into the phone. Yes—smiled. "Blair, Chuck isn't a reliable person. I thought that he was changing for the better when he was with you, however it seems I was wrong about him. He hasn't changed at all. I know he…feels something for you. Of that, I'm sure."  
_

"_You're sure?" Blair asked quickly, hoping that she wasn't imagining it, but that Bart Bass wasn't as exceptionally unobservant and uncaring about his only son as everyone else thought he was._

"_I'm positive," Bart answered evenly. "Ever since he opened that bar Victrola, he's been changing. I don't know exactly what he's thinking, but he goes down there a lot. Spends a lot of time staring at that stage. But it's like he doesn't see anything there. Nothing but a memory. He just looks past whatever is there and into something much deeper. I can't explain it, but Charles isn't the same person he used to be. And even though he abandoned you, I think he'll pull through eventually."_

_Blair sniffled, but was otherwise silent._

_Bart sat for awhile, then said, "He's more like his mother than he knows, Blair."_

"_Wh-what?" Blair said, surprised._

"_He has a soul," Bart said. "He has his mother's eyes and he has a soul. I'm glad he's more like her than me."_

"_I'm sorry about you losing her," Blair said softly._

_Bart didn't answer. He was silent for awhile except for his soft breathing. Blair could have sworn she heard a soft sob._

_Finally he said, "You're in Paris, correct?"_

_Blair nodded, but he understood._

"_Go to this address," he read off the numbers as Blair scribbled them down in ink. "I have something important there that Chuck might want to see. I hope you can help him, Blair."_

"_But why should I do this?" Blair asked._

"_Because," Bart said softly, "you're more like her than you know as well."_

_And then he had hung up. Blair had contemplated these words for weeks now. Was Bart saying she had a soul? Maybe she and Chuck were one of a kind. Her questions and more led her to the shop in Paris and to the black box._

Blair contemplated this conversation as she waited for Chuck to finish throwing up in the bathroom. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and she wore a fitted, white cotton polo with a silk and cotton blend skirt. She had thrown off her heels and pulled her legs up to her body as she sat on the couch in the living room, waiting. Finally, she decided to put on the TV.

Chuck stumbled out of the bathroom again and leaned his head against the wall in the hall leading to Blair's room. Since Blair was here alone and all of the rooms were empty, she had set up the guest bedroom for him, down the hall from her bedroom. He stumbled into the room and switched on the light.

The bed was made in varying shades of blue. Navy blue cotton sheets, sky blue pillowcases, royal blue comforter. The furniture, however, was lighter colored in various off-whites and creams, as well as sand color. There was an adjoining bathroom and a view of the water, which was now dark with night. Chuck dimmed the light and sat down on the bed, putting his head in his hands. He wore a soft cotton-blend light blue shirt and some soft beige khakis. He was comfortable and warm, but he couldn't remember much of the last few hours. He laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. Flashes of the day rolled behind his closed eyelids like a movie.

Scotch. Sleep. Cotton. Flowers. Women. A porcelain toilet bowl. Soft, brown hair. Deep chocolate-_or hazelnut_-eyes. Ice cream. His mother. A small, black box. Blair.

Blair. Chuck sat up quickly. He hoped he wasn't going crazy. His mind quickly made the comparison of their skin, the soft, beautiful skin that each had. The elegance. The confidence. The beauty. The grace. The _eyes. _It was all there in the eyes. Chuck rubbed his face and rid his mind of these anomalies. It was a coincidence, he was sure.

Chuck pushed himself off the bed and walked down the hall, entering the living room on the right, the kitchen and dining room straight in front of him, with a spiral staircase winding up to a second floor. Blair sat on the beige couch among the sea of turquoise, navy blue, and coral pillows, flipping through the channels. Chuck saw the creases in her brow and her messy hair and thought she had never looked quite so beautiful. Chuck loved to watch Blair, especially when she thought no one was looking.

When no one was watching, Blair didn't pretend anymore. She didn't pretend to be interested, or happy, or upset. She was just…Blair. And it was gorgeous.

Chuck watched her for a second as she flipped past _The Notebook_ and made minute comments to herself. He finally decided to make his presence known as he stepped out of the arch and into the living room. Blair turned around, registering his presence. She quickly shut off the TV, slipped on her shoes, and hurried to the kitchen. Chuck followed silently.

"Sit," Blair said as soon as he entered the white kitchen. She motioned to the table in the adjoining dining room. Chuck sat in the place Blair had set for him at the end of the table. Blair sat at the other end of the long table, folded her hands under her chin, and looked out the window to the deck and the water beyond.

Chuck took this time to study his place. The chinaware was quite lovely, but looked like a charade to Chuck. The customary 3 forks, 2 spoons, and 2 knives had been set. A wine glass, coffee cup, and regular cup sat in front of him. Across the 14-foot table, there sat an array of cold salads, sandwiches, different soups, a loaf of Italian sesame bread, 2 pitchers of water with lemon, and a large salad.

"Is this all for us?" Chuck asked. Blair turned and nodded, then motioned to him to eat. He picked up a sandwich and filled his glass with water, while Blair sat watching him. He noticed that she didn't take anything to eat.

"Aren't you hungry?" Chuck asked. Blair's dark eyes deepened and she looked suddenly tired. She shook her head and looked down, away from his questioning eyes. She felt his dark, probing eyes looking at her, but she ignored them, getting up and striding away.

Chuck got up and followed her. She was leaning over the table in the entrance hall, looking at herself in the mirror. She traced the circles under her eyes with her slender fingers, then continued to stare at her reflection. Chuck walked up behind her and circled his arms around her waist. He looked at their reflection in the mirror, then tucked a stray hair behind Blair's ear. Blair looked down, away from this picture. Chuck turned her around and lifted her chin, placing his hands on her shoulders. She stared at him tiredly. He leaned towards her, and Blair thought he was going to kiss her, but instead his arms wrapped around her and pulled her to him in a hug. Blair pulled away coldly, but Chuck's arms wouldn't budge.

"Relax, Blair," Chuck whispered in her left ear. Blair stiffened, then melted warmly into his body. She felt quite safe in the cocoon of Chuck's strong arms. She rested her head against his chest. She could hear him breathing, and the steady rhythm relaxed her.

After a few minutes, Chuck let go of Blair and she turned to go back to the dining room. Chuck grabbed her hand, stopping her. Her chocolate eyes stared intensely at him and he couldn't break the gaze. He swallowed and led her to the table again. She sat down in her spot, expecting Chuck to do the same. Instead, he surprised her by picking up his plate and sitting down in the spot right on the side of hers. To Blair, this action was highly symbolic. Chuck closed the distance between them, preferring to sit on her side than at the other head of the table. Moving meant losing just a small percent of his power. He was opting to be on her side rather than to face off against her.

Blair stared at him as he took a bite out of his sandwich as if this was all routine. He stopped for a second and motioned to a sandwich for her. She looked blankly at him, then the sandwich. He picked it up and placed it on her plate. She looked down at it, then back at him. She pretended she didn't understand. He acted out eating, without saying a word. Her face broke out in a smile as Chuck continued to devour the imaginary sandwich in front of him. She took a small bite out of her sandwich and he smiled at her. She took another bite and he positively glowed. Finishing off her sandwich, she took a sip of her water. Chuck finished his sandwich, then they put the rest of the food away together, skirting around each other the whole time.

When they were finished, Blair wasn't quite sure what to do. Chuck walked to the other side of the house and out into the backyard where the pool was. Blair followed and when they got outside, Blair saw Chuck stripping down to his underwear.

"What are you doing?" Blair hissed, looking around to make sure none of the neighbors saw the stripping man in her backyard.

Chuck answered by stepping out of his shoes and pulling off his socks. Barefoot, he walked over to Blair. She stood, staring at his warily, with anger in her eyes. A foot away from her, he stopped. She closed to distance like a magnet being drawn to him. She looked up at him and read the message in his eyes. She placed her hands on his chest and began unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged out of it and she placed her hands on his arms. They weren't muscular, but they were toned, like he had been working out. His skin was a shade paler than last time she had seen him. But maybe it was just the moonlight.

His dark eyes stared down on her. Blair slipped off her shoes, making herself even shorter than him, all while looking at his eyes. Her hands found his waist and took off his belt. He pulled the zipper on her skirt down and it fell in a bunch around her ankles, fanning out softly on the ground. Blair unzipped his pants, then pushed them down to his ankles. He stepped out of them. He put his hands on her waist, then his fingers slid under the bottom of her shirt. She lifted her arms as he pulled the cotton shirt up and off her body. She stood in her white, cotton bra and panties, leaning into Chuck, who stood only in purple boxers. His hands slid up her body to her head, where he pulled the band out of her hair, letting it cascade down her back. He then placed his hands on her face and leaned into her. She pushed herself into him, and her lips found his. It was a fleeting kiss, lasting only a second. Before she let her mind wander and his tongue slip into her mouth, Chuck pulled away. She looked at him confusedly, but one look at his eyes made her trust him. He walked her over the the pool. But instead of walking in the shallow end, he walked them over to the deep end. Blair looked at him inquisitively.

"I dare you to go skinny dipping with me," Chuck whispered.


	6. Control

Chapter 6:

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"**She had come to him to make her body unique, irreplaceable.**"

~'_The Unbearable Lightness of Being'_

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Blair was sure of the fact that she was just being a wimp. That's all this was. She was self-conscious about her body. Blair shivered as Chuck stared her down, his eyes undressing where she stood. But if Blair was being honest, it wasn't about the nudeness. She had been nude in front of Chuck tons of times. Honestly, she had been nude a lot more times with him than she thought he would ever want. But this, his eyes on her, this was a different level of nudity. She felt like he was breaking down her guarded walls, bit-by-bit, piece-by-piece, until she gave in to him.

If she gave in and took off her clothes, then she'd be just another girl to Chuck. What Blair really needed was someone who could make her feel special, irreplaceable. Chuck was not that person, because as soon as she had let down her guard, he had left her. He had replaced her. All bodies were one to him, interchangeable. It didn't matter because all women were the same to him, all were equal. But she knew that not all bodies were equal. Nate's problem was that he had failed to make her feel wanted. Chuck's problem is that he wanted her on the same level as everyone else, nothing more.

One has only power over one's self and one's body. To relinquish that power is called falling in love. Taking off her clothes was just another way of relinquishing her power. She would be stripped down to everything that she was and her power would be gone. Blair hated losing power. Blair had lost so much to others. Her body, and consequently her ultimate power, may have been the only thing she had left. This was why she was so reluctant to lose her virginity. Chuck had a power over her that she couldn't control. She had always found ways to make it seem as if she was giving a part of herself to someone while, in truth, she knew no one would be able to take that from her. But when he tempted her, she lost control. Having sex with Chuck made her want to offer up her most basic power, the power over her body. The last time she had given him complete power over her, he had walked away. He had created an equal sign between her body and all others and she had been left to try and gain back some of her previous control. But Chuck had taken nearly all of it, so when he walked into a room, Blair knew she had already lost the battle and that she would ultimately give in to him. In truth, he would never know the power he held over Blair. This was why she was afraid of Chuck.

However, if she didn't come through on a dare, she was a coward. And the one thing Blair Waldorf was not was a coward. Blair knew that she would give in eventually, and she was too tired to fight. She just hoped this time would be different.

She uncrossed her arms and stopped glaring at Chuck in the calculating, pensive way she had been for the last few minutes as she thought over his proposition.

"Fine," she said softly, but coldly. This was a dare, nothing more. Chuck nodded and then turned around for her to undress. Blair stared blankly at his back. She was surprised to see he wasn't peeking or anything. Blair was not ashamed to say that she was a little offended, but she got over it quickly and started to undress, her bra coming off first and being tossed into her already existing pile of clothes.

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Chuck stared off into the distance around Blair's summer home. The pool faced the driveway and led to a patio that stretched nearly the whole way around the house. The white house sat on the bay, which was now black and sparkling with night. Steps from the back part of the patio led down to a pond area with geese and ducks that floated happily by on top of the water. On the other side of Blair's house, the white sand of the volleyball court and the white lines on red and green asphalt of the tennis court were just visible. The nets swayed in the salty wind that came in off the bay. Chuck shivered a little and hoped that the pool was heated, since it was nearing the middle of August and nights were rather cold near the water.

Having taken in his surroundings, Chuck contemplated his position. This dare he had set up wasn't all fun and games. Blair would be surprised to find out that the main purpose of this dare wasn't to get her undressed. Well, it was. But not in the way she thought. If Chuck could get her to shed her clothes, he would soon get her to shed her cold front. He wanted her to let her guard down so they could finally get somewhere in the backwards conversations they kept having. Chuck knew that Blair never resisted a dare. It was in her blood. He knew that if he had watched her undress, she would keep her guard up. He wanted her to feel comfortable, so he respected her privacy.

Chuck was tired of always being the one who screwed up. When he had left her at the beginning of the summer, he had thought that it wouldn't matter. Womanizing was in his nature, and Blair would understand because she knew him better than anyone and wouldn't expect anything else.

What Chuck hadn't known then is the power Blair had over his body, even across distances. He had found himself unable to have sex with anyone. His mechanical problems were mysterious enough, however what really mystified him was his body's complete lack of energy ever since Blair had left. It seemed that without her there, he didn't have the will to get up or even move. His body was paralyzed.

Chuck had thought that he wasn't any better than what he had been: a womanizer. But Blair had shown him that he was better for so much more than that. She had made the distinction between having sex and making love. Chuck hadn't realized it then, but now he had. Blair had given him a heart. At first, he didn't understand Blair's heartbreak at his actions. But he came to realize that she had trusted him. She had believed in him and that she had changed him into someone who she thought was worthy of her trust. While Chuck had thought that his womanizing was still on par with the rest of his persona, Blair was two steps ahead and already knew the person she had created would never cheat. He had been unable to identify the effect that Blair had on him. Blair had known him better than he had known himself.

In truth, Chuck had been scared. Scared that Blair would leave him. It had happened before, and it had ached in a spot he couldn't quite identify. Chuck had therefore left Blair first. He had left her before she could leave him again. Chuck didn't want Blair to make him second best. He had always been second best, but it had never bothered him until Blair. Chuck was someone who always wanted to be first, which is why he flaunted his name. He deserved it because he was Chuck Bass. First class was not a metaphor for him. His name gained him entry into the world of firsts. To his father, he had been second. To his best friend he had been second. To his sister, he had been second. But to Blair, for a shining period of time, he had been first. And that first had been better than any other he had or ever would experience.

Behind him, Blair continued to shed her clothes, and ironically, her battle armor too. When he heard a small splash, he turned around.

* * *

**Thanks for waiting so long, you guys. Sorry this chapter wasn't longer. **

**It totally took this idea from The Unbearable Lightness of Being. The chapter was just too good and got me thinking.**

**Just click the little green button. It is the key to my happiness.**


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